


got stars at night to guide us

by thistidalwave



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistidalwave/pseuds/thistidalwave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is just trying to be a good friend, honestly. (werewolf-free AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	got stars at night to guide us

“I’m just saying, we saw that stupid Hugh Grant movie last time. I want to go see something where there’s actual action,” Allison says. 

“But there’s a new Nicholas Sparks adaptation,” Scott protests.

Lydia exchanges an exasperated glance with Stiles. They’re sitting in the food court at the mall, and Lydia is beginning to regret saying she didn’t really care what movie they went to. She thinks Allison and Scott would happily argue for days if no one stopped them.

“Someone always dies in those,” Stiles tries. “So it’s kind of action-y?”

Allison fixes him with a look. “I want multiple explosions, Stiles,” she says, punctuating her statement with a stab of her fry at the air before eating it.

Scott sighs, looking dejected. “Action movies are boring.”

Allison glares. Stiles squirms in the seat next to her. Scott doesn’t seem to notice the death glare, more intent on his drink. Lydia checks her nails. She does not want any part of this.

“Lydia,” Allison says, “what do you think?”

Lydia looks up slowly, considering her options. “Well,” she says, “we did see a romcom last time.”

“See! Lydia agrees with me,” Allison declares, pleased. Lydia tries not to preen under the force of the smile Allison flashes her.

“She didn’t say that,” Stiles says, frowning. Lydia tries to shake her head at him when Allison’s not looking, but Allison looks back at her before she really manages it.

“Yeah, she did,” Allison says. “Right, Lydia?”

Lydia blinks helplessly at her. “Right.”

Stiles makes a confused face at Lydia, who shoots him back her best _what are you looking at, bitch?_ face.

“That’s settled, then,” Allison says.

“It wasn’t even a majority rule,” Scott protests.

“Face it, man,” Stiles says, reaching over to clap Scott on the shoulder. “You’re beat. You’ve gotta pick your battles.”

-

“You’d rather watch a romcom than an action flick,” Stiles says to Lydia later, when they’re standing in line for popcorn. Stiles had insisted that Allison and Scott be the ones to go save them seats in the theater, and Lydia had known it was for this exact reason. “Don’t even try to tell me that’s not true, because I have known you for years, and I know what kind of movies you like to watch.”

“I appreciate a good explosion,” Lydia says. He’s right, but she doesn’t have to give in and actually say that.

“Not saying you don’t, but I think what you _really_ appreciate here is a certain brunette. And I don’t mean me. Or Scott.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Can you just drop it? It’s not a big deal.”

Stiles abruptly gets that look on his face. Lydia swears internally. That’s the look she dreads--the one that ends up with them in such situations as detention or the forest in the middle of the night. Usually both.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Lydia,” Stiles says. “I’ll handle this.” He steps forward to the counter, leaving Lydia to stare in dismay at his back.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she says under her breath.

-

Lydia is en route to her history class on Thursday morning when Stiles grabs her arm and pulls her aside. She nearly falls over. 

“What have I said about doing that when I’m wearing heels?” she snaps.

“Whatever,” Stiles says. “You have to come bowling tonight.”

“I have to what?”

“Bowling. It’s going to be a double date.” 

Lydia’s heart sinks. “Oh no, not this again. With who?”

“You with Allison, me with Scott!” Stiles looks extremely pleased with himself. Lydia resists, not for the first time, the urge to strangle him.

“That’s not a double date,” she points out. “You and Scott aren’t dating.”

Stiles waves her off. “That’s inconsequential. I need to be there to supervise your burgeoning romance.”

“My... oh my god, Stilinski, I told you to leave it. There is _no_ burgeoning romance.”

“Not with that attitude there isn’t,” Stiles says, backing away. “Pick you up tonight at seven-thirty. Be ready! Look nice!” He’s already halfway down the hallway by the time he finishes his sentence.

“As if I ever look bad!” she yells back at him. He shoots finger guns at her before turning the corner. 

Lydia hates him.

-

So maybe Lydia does have a... _thing_ for Allison. She doesn’t need anyone to help her with it, especially not Stiles. Her strategy of ignoring it is working just fine, thank you very much. She doesn’t mind admiring Allison’s smile from the metaphorical afar--they’re best friends, and Lydia is cool with that.

Although, she thinks, watching Allison bowl another strike, they would make one hell of a power couple. And Lydia would _really_ like to kiss that grin off her face.

“I don’t think these teams are fair,” Scott says. Stiles jabs him in the side. Scott furrows his eyebrows at him.

“Just because we’re dominating,” Lydia says flippantly. “It’s your turn.”

Scott stands and goes to take his turn while Allison sits down next to Lydia. “He’s probably right,” she says. “We’re actually good at this, while those two just kind of flail the ball down the lane.”

“Yeah, well,” Lydia says. “Take it up with Stiles.”

Allison looks over to where Stiles is blatantly staring at them from the table next to them and laughs. “Is he all right? He was really insistent that I come bowling. And that you and me be a team.”

“Just ignore him,” Lydia says. “Really. Don’t listen to anything he says ever.”

Allison raises an eyebrow at her. “Is there something going on?”

“No,” Lydia says, on the verge of panic now. “There’s not anything going on. Nothing.”

Lydia knows that she just did a terrible job of lying, but Allison doesn’t say anything else, just purses her lips a bit and turns to watch Scott instead. Lydia takes the opportunity to flip Stiles off behind Allison’s head, and Stiles smiles sweetly back at her. 

“You look nice tonight,” Allison says suddenly. Lydia blinks.

“Oh. Thank you. You do too.”

Allison nods like she’s just confirmed something. Lydia looks over at Stiles in confusion, thinking he might have any idea what that was all about. He gives her a thumbs up, which is the opposite of helpful, but not any different than what she really expected.

-

“Hey,” Allison says the next day, sitting down next to Lydia in the cafeteria. “Are you coming to dinner tomorrow night?”

Lydia frowns. “What dinner?”

“The four of us are going to go out to that place downtown, you know the one? A preemptive reward for writing our midterms and a good study break,” Allison says. “I told Scott to tell you.”

“Well, he didn’t,” Lydia says. Allison is weirdly close to Lydia’s face, and Lydia is having trouble concentrating. “Hey, what were you and Stiles talking about in English?”

“The reading,” Allison says. “Stiles didn’t finish it.”

Lydia nods. That makes sense, Stiles rarely actually finishes the readings.

“So, dinner?” Allison prompts.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be there.”

“Great. Stiles can text you the time.”

-

Stiles does text Lydia the time. He also won’t _stop_ texting her. He demands she text him a picture of what she’s going to wear, and when she does, he has the gall to suggest she wear different shoes. She steadfastly refuses this advice. The day that Stiles Stilinski has better fashion sense than Lydia Martin is the day she hits her head and gets amnesia. 

Actually, not even then.

Lydia arrives at the restaurant fifteen minutes late for reasons she prefers not to disclose (she’d panicked about the shoes and she is not proud of it), but Allison is the only one sitting at the table the hostess leads her to. It’s also tiny, in the corner, and has candles on it. It is, in fact, a table Lydia has sat at before while on a date with Jackson before he moved. 

She immediately understands what’s happening. She’s going to castrate Stiles.

“Hi!” Allison says, looking up from her phone and noticing Lydia standing there. “You’re late.”

Lydia shrugs primly and sits down. “Sorry. And, uh, sorry about this.”

Allison smiles at her. “Why?”

“Stiles has this thing he thinks that isn’t really true and, like... I told him no, but you know Stiles, and I swear to god I’m going to cut off his dick, honestly, and--”

Allison cuts her off with a loud laugh, covering her mouth and giggling before composing herself. “Sorry, do go on about Stiles?”

Lydia blinks. “Why are you laughing?”

“Stiles said you would say that,” Allison says. “Also, you’re really hot when you’re mad.” She’s half smiling, one dimple showing, and Lydia is so distracted by it that for a moment she doesn’t really register what Allison said.

“Stiles said?” Lydia says dumbly.

Allison nods. “Sorry, I’ll take pity on you now. I figured out that Stiles was trying to set us up, so I asked him about it, and he said he was doing you a favour. This was my idea.”

“The dinner?”

“Yeah.”

Lydia doesn’t know what to say, which is a very weird feeling for her. This is not something she ever saw coming. “I didn’t ask him to do me a favour,” she finally comes up with.

“He’s a good friend,” Allison says.

“Yeah,” Lydia says. “Maybe I’ll let him keep his dick.”

Allison laughs at that, full blown and grinning, and Lydia can’t help but laugh too.

“Hey,” she says, mustering up all the Martin courage she has left, “do you want to skip the food?”

Allison abruptly stops laughing. Lydia desperately wants to take it back in the second before Allison starts smiling again and says, “Sure, thought you’d never ask,” and tosses an exaggerated wink in at the end as punctuation.

-

Kissing Allison is somehow a lot better than Lydia ever imagined it could be. She looks like she’s all sharp angles, but she’s actually soft under Lydia’s hands, and her lips slot against Lydia’s easily. 

“We should have been doing this a lot sooner,” Allison says. Her cheeks are flushed pink and her hair is messed up on one side where Lydia had shoved her hand in it. 

“Mhm,” Lydia says, and pulls Allison back in so she can bite at her already swollen lower lip. “This shirt looks really nice on you,” she says, tugging at the hem of it, “but I hate it right now.”

Allison giggles breathlessly and leans back to pull it off, tossing it to the end of Lydia’s bed. “Better?” she asks. Lydia answers by leaning up to kiss her again, nudging at her until she gets the message and flops easily down onto the bed, allowing Lydia to throw a leg over and straddle her waist. She runs a hand experimentally up Allison’s bare side and Allison shivers, grabs at Lydia’s dress and tugs her in for another kiss, hot and desperate.

“Wait, wait,” Allison says later, when Lydia isn’t wearing her dress anymore and is a little busy sucking a dark mark into Allison’s skin just above her bra. “Are we, like, are we dating now?”

Lydia stops, pulls away to blink at her. “Is that important right now?”

Allison gets this adorable little pout at that, and Lydia forgets that she’d asked a question and kisses the bow of her lips. Allison lets her for longer than a moment before pulling away again. “Yeah, it’s important.”

“What?”

“Dating. I want to hold hands in the halls and stuff. Like proper girlfriends.”

Lydia pretends to consider that for a moment before smiling, small and secret. “Well, if you _want_ to.” She reaches for Allison’s hand and threads their fingers together, one at a time. “Just don’t set your mom on me, please,” Lydia adds.

Allison laughs, letting her forehead fall against Lydia’s shoulder. “Don’t give me a reason to,” she says, and Lydia has to kiss her again for that.

-

Monday morning finds Allison and Lydia holding hands next to Allison’s locker, and Stiles smirking smugly at them. Lydia would strangle him if she could do it with one hand.

“Told you I would handle it,” Stiles says.

“Yes, thank you so much,” Lydia says, voice heavy with sarcasm even though she genuinely means it. She knows Stiles knows that without her telling him. “Can you go away now?”

“Nah, I’m admiring my handiwork.”

“Uh huh,” Allison says. “So, Stiles, when are you going to get it together with Scott?”

Stiles turns bright red.


End file.
